Paranoia and Gore

This week is mostly being brought to you by the word ‘paranoia’. Meh!

The past 2 weekends we’ve been camping in East Lothian and having a wonderful time. However, because I write in a paper diary when I’m away from home and blog about outdoor exploits elsewhere, I don’t repeat it all here. However, I’ve been moaning far and wide about the ticks we picked up on a short one-hour walk in some properly enchanting woodland.

embedded tickLike any ex-Lyme disease sufferer, I hate the little buggers. The Boss and I carry out tick checks on us all and carry nifty¬†little tick hooks. We’ve been teaching the minxes about tick safety without going overboard. Well, on 15th June we found this one in the nape of Maxi’s neck. I suspect (hope) the pink marks around it are from initial flicks in case it was a piece of dirt. I took the photo while The Boss fetched the hook, and it was really to document it just in case Maxi gets ill – I can prove she had a tick-bite. Tick removed, I reassured my hysterical little 8 yo that she had the smallest, tiniest, don’t-even-waste-time-thinking-about-it chance of getting ill, but that we’d check for rashes anyway for a few weeks.

Well, she’s not had a rash, but the past 2 days has been complaining of a constant low-grade headache, stomach-ache, and generally feeling a bit ill. Her neck lymph nodes are swollen. She mentioned it this morning and throughout the day. It’s easy to get paranoid, but I need to remember that it’s the end of term, kids are tired, there are lots of viruses doing the rounds (chicken pox is rife right not). If she gets joint aches, a stronger headache, or more flu-y symptoms, then yes, I’ll be thinking that it’s Lyme. But for now, I’ll just fret for a few days until she’s better or she’s seen the GP.

sharkThink that tick was gruesome? Try Midi’s mouth! That second little incisor finally wobbled out on 23rd June. The Tooth Fairy left her 2 very shiny 50p pieces with cool backs that she promptly spent on a sherbet fountain. Tsk…

More paranoia: I get a bit nervous when The Boss is late home from work. The roads he drives certainly have their fair share of people who (think they are) immortal, can see round blind corners, can drive waaaaaaaay past the speed limit ‘safely’, can drive within an inch or so of the bumper of those of us who are merely mortal and drive accordingly… ach, you get the picture. Anyway, the day before yesterday I noticed he was a bit late. Right then, the phone went. The Bat-Fone. The landline that only ever rings for official things. I thought, well, it can’t be too bad or it would be a knock on the front-door from 2 hat-less polis. And yes, The Boss had had an accident.

Don’t panic: no-one was hurt. He’d been tootling along the back road home when a van decided to cross *right* in front of him without looking. The Boss threw out the anchors and figuratively braced for impact (his fingers never left the steering wheel – I think he left indents). Luckily, his little car can barely hit 50mph going downhill and with a tailwind, so he stopped very quickly. Even so, he hit the front of the van, knocking the van’s bumper and numberplate about 10-15m. The airbags didn’t go off, so it wasn’t high-speed at all. When he stopped shaking enough to get out, he found his driver door barely opened.

The van driver’s first words were: “You were coming at some speed!” The Boss charitably thinks he was perhaps attempting sarcastic humour; I cynically suspect him of being in this situation before to have such a practiced and ready line… After exchanging details and retrieving bits of car and failing to get any witnesses (the old man behind the van who saw everything absolutely refused to “get involved” and drove off), The Boss limped home. Shaky. Thankful it hadn’t been any worse. And possibly thinking what confessions he could get out the way that night using his joker card on his very-glad-he’s-still-alive wife ūüėČ

After that, it’s not been a problem, really. The van driver talked to his insurance company and admitted full liability. Yes, it was kinda obvious that it was, but I’m still grateful that we didn’t have any arguments or awkwardness. The Boss decided that rather than deal directly with the other man’s insurance company that he’d talk to his own insurance company (Direct Line). Good move – they’ve been brilliant. Today a nice man in a tow truck arrived to pick up the car and take it away to be fixed. A lovely lady from Enterprise came to drop-off a hire car. Honestly, if felt like she was awarding us a prize or something, it was such a pleasant and trouble-free handover. We’ve no limit on mileage or time, and she’ll come pick it up when we have the car repaired and returned. Fantastic!

In the meantime, I can tease The Boss mercilessly on him having broken more cars than me. And feel very, very thankful that he’s here, fully intact, to be teased and tormented.

Well, actually, he’s not ‘here’: right now he’s off mountain-biking in the Back of Beyond, making sure the stresses of work and the week in general are pedalled away. He always tells me roughly where he’s going (in the hall we have a brilliant OS map centred on the house that our friends gifted us) and we always agree a time that if I’ve not heard from him, I’ll phone for help. Sometimes I’ll follow along with Endomondo, but that usually just increases my paranoia that he’s lying injured by the side of the road, because it frequently ‘sticks’ or loses signal. Meh! Better just to remain un-stalked, I think.

Midi Bites Again

On 19th May, the Tooth Fairy finally visited Midi Minx.

She’d been hauling on that tiny wobbly peg for¬†weeks. She twisted and twirled it every minute she remembered.¬†It just wasn’t shifting. She’d asked and double-checked what age

new adult tooth behind baby tooth

Exactly one month ago

Maxi had been when she first lost a tooth (5; Midi is now 6), and how much she’d been paid in shiny gold coins (¬£1 a time).

Eventually, after a lot of blood, the teeny stump came out. She proudly made a little cushion of fabric in a plastic heart-shaped case, and nestled the tooth on top. It went safely under her pillow while The Boss outdid himself this time, Brasso-ing that coin.

When Midi came screaming into our room at 6am on 20th, it was the reflected, concentrated sunlight flash off that golden nugget that woke me up, as it burned off my eyelids, not Midi’s demented shrieking about being rich.

It was her new lower left incisor that pushed the tooth out in the first place. It’s grown so much that it’s now the longest / tallest tooth in Midi’s mouth (all the rest having been ground to flat little stumps). Midi can now bite again. Her sisters are quaking…

Cars and Teeth and Babies

The car had to have an interim service (ie oil and oil filter change) and MOT, and I had to find a garage near the new place where we live. A normal person would have asked around for recommendations first; I left it to the last minute and had to just grab one at random who could squeeze me in. Luckily they could squish it in between 2 of the 3 school runs.

Well, surprise surprise, a bulb had gone (oh right, it must have blown overnight because I checked them all round!) and some minor work “had” to be done. So another ¬£30 odd plus VAT on to the bill. And the dashboard is still squawking “Service oil!” Have I been diddled, I wonder…? I’m so bloody tired that I’m not sure it’s worth the effort to go complain. I hate taking the car to the garage. The only decent mechanic I’ve used – ever –¬†is a total gem and is yet another reason to miss where we used to live.

On the bright side, having to hang around a new town for 2 hours completely childless gave me a change to explore the library and¬†nurse a coffee and newspaper in the local cafe. Luxury? Well, you’d think so! Instead of feeling languorous and spoiled,¬†I just fretted over how much my pea-sized brain had shrunken that I couldn’t concentrate on reading even the ultra-condensed mini-news of ‘i’.

This evening, poor Maxi Minx has a sore tummy so has barely eaten. This is very unlike her. I suspect we’re in for a long night with that one… At first I thought she just wanted to escape the banshee wails of her sisters and preferred to skip dinner to have a lovely hour to herself, tucked up in bed, with one of her favourite novels. God, I know I would! But she’s looking very pale too, poor thing.

If my middle entrepreneur could figure out a way to hock her teeth in one job-lot to the Tooth Fairy, she would!

If my middle entrepreneur could figure out a way to hock her teeth in one job-lot to the Tooth Fairy, she would!

She lost another tooth this morning over breakfast (7th one: her top right outer incisor), so The Boss is currently and furtively shining up a ¬£1 coin with brasso¬†for The Tooth Fairy that I’d tucked away when I’d noticed how many wobbly teeth she has. And Midi’s teeth are loosening too… thankfully they’re not all coming out at once! What with the car, monumental vet bills,¬†OMG-sized council tax at the new house¬†and having to fill the oil tank, this month is already¬†heart-attack-levels of¬†expensive. I started looking out for Christmas casual work for me to ease the blow, but found it hard to navigate between the mountains of jobs that you can fit around 2 schools and 3 kids. Even the Royal Mail¬†will only accept Christmas temps who¬†can work full-time. I was naively hoping for something that I could do part-time at unsociable hours. Better get knitting and selling, then, eh?

I hope all 3 little raging monsters go to sleep soon so we can swap¬†Maxi’s tooth for the coin this side of midnight. Right now Midi is roaring in her bed and Mini is sprawled¬†on top of her, under the covers. “We’re playing Mummies and Babies!” Midi cheerfully said in a break from shrieking, then chided her ‘baby’ for coming out of her tummy too soon. Both then screamed in unison at the top of their lungs¬†before collapsing into¬†sniggers. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on, and frankly am too afraid to ask. I’m just going to hide in my bedroom for a bit. You didn’t see me, right?